


Red Riding Wolf

by VisceralViscaria



Series: Of Men and Wolves [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood, Frottage, Knotting, M/M, Wolf!Hannibal, Woodsman!Will, both are adults, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisceralViscaria/pseuds/VisceralViscaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Sir, what big</i> teeth <i>you have."</i><br/><i>"All the better..."</i><br/><i>"...To</i> eat you <i>with, my dear."</i></p><p>---</p><p>'Children, especially attractive, well bred young ladies, should never talk to strangers, for if they should do so, they may well provide dinner for a wolf. I say "wolf," but there are various kinds of wolves. There are also those who are charming, quiet, polite, unassuming, complacent, and sweet, who pursue young women at home and in the streets. And unfortunately, it is these gentle wolves who are the most dangerous ones of all.' - Charles Perrault</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cloak

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it's me again, AU loving trash. This fic is a lot shorter than my other ones. I've already written the entire thing, but I'll be updating every other day. As always, I welcome comments and critique. [howishughdancyevenpossible](http://howishughdancyevenpossible.tumblr.com/) beta-ed for me and helped with the summary. Thank you friend!! There may or may not be a sequel depending on the response this gets and my levels of inspiration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's family is based on Little Red Riding Hood's rather than his own.

***

 

            It was a cold day in autumn, if he recalled it correctly. The leaves had just begun to fall, littering the ground in bright splashes of fiery oranges and reds that slowly browned around the edges. He'd watched through the window as the wind shook more from the trees, the leaves dancing as they tumbled down. Hannibal imagined that he could smell them, a dry, brittle scent that spoke of passing time and lingered in his sensitive canine nose.

 

            Across from him his mother tended the fire. Crackling logs burnt as she turned her yellow eyes toward him, silently studying his face. He let her, knowing she wouldn't find anything he didn't want her to see. Their whole family was renown for being as reserved as they were sly. She was no exception, but even his mother knew that Hannibal was the shrewdest of them yet. She gave up with a nearly silent sigh, his ears swiveling to catch the sound.

 

            "I know that you want to go outside, Hannibal, but we both know that it's too cold for you to go without a coat right now."

 

            He said nothing, eyes never leaving the chilled glass, but his mother knew she'd been heard as his lips drew down into a frown. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Just as she was about to comment on how _rude_ it was to ignore someone Hannibal's grandmother came in. The door shut snuggly behind her, but not before a gust of frigid air swept into the room, stirring papers and anything that wasn't firmly held down. A few more logs were tossed onto the fire.

 

            Hannibal turned to watch as his mother stood and greeted their newest arrival. Standing side by side, the resemblance couldn't have been more obvious. Both women stood tall and proud, shoulders back and heads held high. Their thin noses and high cheekbones gave them a regal look that he knew was mirrored on his own young face. Ash blonde hair fell to their backs in waves, his grandmother's locks shot through with streaks of silver that his mother's had yet to attain. He was a near perfect copy and resembled them in every way. Except for the eyes. Theirs shone a pale yellow that made him think of full moons hanging in a bright sky. His maroon gaze was the only thing tying him to his father. He was the only thing he'd left behind.

 

            His eyes drifted to a package in his grandmother's hands with curiosity. His birthday wasn't for another few months and she wasn't the type to give presents early. The brown paper crinkled in her hands as she cleared her throat, Hannibal's gaze snapping up to meet her own. She smiled, eyes lighting up with old mischief when they flicked between him and his mother. His mother's widened in response, a brief moment of eye contact seeming to tell her all she needed to know. Her expression turned to one of exasperation as his grandmother knelt down and opened her arms, palms out. "Hannibal. Come give your grandmother a hug."

 

            Obediently he rose from his chair and walked into her embrace, feeling her arms fold around him with carefully restrained strength while his own rose to lightly wrap around her waist. He stepped back once he felt her letting go. 

 

            She quickly rose to her full height again, his ears picking up the subtle popping of old bones. "Your mother and I have been talking, and I know from experience that it's no fun to be cooped inside all day when all you want to do is get out there and run." Both of their eyes took on a distant twinkle as each chased memories of their own. 

 

            "But she swears up and down that it's already too cold." It wasn't hard for him to pick up on her gently mocking tone, and if his mother's half-hearted glare was anything to go by it hadn't escaped her notice either. "So I'm here to offer a solution." She gestured to the package tucked between her body and her arm, his eyes tracking the movement as she shifted it to her hand and passed it to him. He looked to his mother for permission. With her hesitant nod, he began tearing the paper off with sharp claws, painstakingly avoiding the object underneath.

 

            In his arms was a red riding cloak. It weighed heavily in his youthful hands, the thick wool promising warmth and protection from the nip in the air. Reverent fingers brushed against the silken lining in wonder, finding their way up into the fur lined hood. All had been dyed the rich color of drying blood rather than the bright cherry red some people seemed to prefer. He already loved it.

 

            "Well, try it on." His grandmother's voice was excited, and he eagerly complied. Draped in the luxurious fabrics and textures, he found that it was perfect. The hem stopped just below his knee, a simple clasp and thin silver chain holding it closed at his throat. He took in a breath tinged with hickory and old smoke. Glancing up to both women for approval, he found that their eyes, normally keen and sharp, were softened with affection. The same went for their smiles, which were gentle in spite of the pointed tips of their bared teeth.

 

            His grandmother nudged his mother's ribs with an elbow. "See, I told you it would be fine."

 

            She laughed and laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's more than fine. He looks like he was born to wear it." Her smile widened as she stared down at him. "Little Red Riding Cloak." The fondness in her voice was unmistakable.

 

            His grandmother cackled. "More like Little Red Riding _Wolf_."

 

            Hannibal disliked both nicknames. He was more than the sum of his clothing. But his good manners dictated that he avoid saying so, even if it was true, so he grinned wolfishly at them instead. "Thank you, grandmother. Mother, may I go outside now?"

 

            After tipping her head to the side in fake contemplation, she nodded. He stepped around them and made his way to the door, careful not to catch his cloak on anything. The wind rushed in again as he opened the door, but the heavy fabric hung over his shoulders and would not budge. He shut the door behind him and took a moment to close his eyes against the weak autumn sun, listening to the wind run through the trees and knowing he now had the freedom to join it in its play.


	2. Warnings and Wine

***

 

            Hannibal paused in his turning of the knob with a smile. Standing before his mother's door had brought the memory back and his youthful enthusiasm with it. The cloak had served him well over the years. Unfortunately the nickname had stuck around as well. The wolves of the forest, both young and old, had come to call him Little Red Riding Wolf in spite of his best efforts to nip that thought in the bud. 

 

            He would've ripped out their throats with his teeth if it had been intended to tease. Instead they had said it with quiet awe, the red cloak suiting him so well that they couldn't imagine him any other way. Hannibal had grown to begrudgingly accept the title and it still clung to him even now. Many autumns had come and gone since then, and Little Red Riding Wolf was not so little anymore. He had outgrown the original cloak long ago. It had been replaced with one of silk and rabbits' fur that stopped mid calf, held shut by a gleaming silver wolf's head with ornate ruby eyes. It was still the color of blood, and today it contrasted nicely with the warm brown of his suit.

 

            That familiar winter wind brushed against his back and snapped him from his reverie. Hannibal pushed the door open and stepped inside, broad back blocking the gale at the door. "Mother." He shut the door behind him as she called to him from the kitchen.

 

            "Just a moment!"

 

            Sighing, he removed his cloak and hung it up alongside his mother's shawl, moving further into the room. He settled into an armchair by the fireplace and warmed his hands with the dancing flames, knowing from experience that when his mother said a moment in the kitchen she could mean anywhere from five minutes to half an hour. Luckily he didn't have to wait very long for her to appear. He smelled her arrival before he saw it, the scent of vanilla and sugar entering as she did.

 

            "Hannibal." Turning, he found her wearing a grin he had seen countless times before. She was older now, age accentuating her beauty rather than diminishing it. The silver in her hair and lines on her hands and face spoke of wisdom and strength. In her arms was a dark wicker basket covered by a sheet of red cloth. The smells he had noticed were coming from it.

 

            He rose from his chair and came to stand beside her. She looked up at him, an amused glimmer in her eye. "I swear you get taller every year."

 

            His lips twitched. "Though you say that every time you see me, I assure you that I have not grown in many years." He switched to a thoughtful expression. "Have you considered that you might be shrinking?"

 

            She swatted his arm with a laugh. "Well, why don't you tell me? _You're_ the doctor." His mother grew serious then. "Which is why I've asked you to come." She led him back over to the fireplace, sitting in a chair across from the one he had claimed earlier and setting the basket in her lap. "I'm afraid your grandmother has grown ill. I am worried for her and would like to visit, but I'm too old to go myself."

 

            Hannibal arched a brow at that. While his mother was not as young as she used to be, he had no doubt that she could easily make the trip on her own. His grandmother lived far away, as was traditional of most wolves, and one had to pass by a small village to get there from his mother's house, so perhaps that was the cause of her concern. It was more likely that she wanted him to use his knowledge of medicine to help.

 

            She continued, ignorant of his speculation or at least pretending to be. "Therefore, I'm asking you to deliver this basket with a bottle of wine and a cake I've made." She glanced up with a look of calculation and a soft murmur. "I'm sure she would be grateful if you were to take a look at her as well." His mother held out the basket to him.

 

            He nodded his acceptance and delicately took it from her hands. Walking to the door he slipped on his cloak, nimble fingers pinning it back in place. His hand was already turning the knob when his mother's voice rose behind him.

 

            "Oh, and be sure to stay on the path! A human recently moved into this forest."

 

            Hannibal paused, his curiosity piqued. A human, in these woods? The subtle twitch of his tail must have given his interest away, because his mother repeated the warning with steel in her tone. "Stay away from him, Hannibal. I would hate to hear that the Big Bad Woodsman had cut you up and made you into stew." The last part was said with grim mirth, most likely a tale they told pups to keep them safe at home. 

 

            He pushed the door open, basket clutched in his other hand. It was amusing, to say the least. He was far more likely to eat than be eaten. "Not to worry, mother. I shall be _very_ careful." Hannibal stepped into the cold, making no promise to stay on the path. If all went well he and this woodsman would be meeting sooner than she thought.


	3. Of Men and Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I don't think I like posting a fic in parts. It's too tempting when all of the chapters are just waiting around as drafts. Sorry, wanted to vent.

***

 

            The narrow path snaked its way through their vast forest, a thin strip of pebbles a shade lighter than those around them. It was intentionally hard to see, as there _was_ a village of humans nearby, and became even more so when partially buried beneath piles of frost covered leaves. They snapped satisfyingly under heel as Hannibal strode across them and scattered the pieces to the breeze. Soft beams of sunlight cut sluggishly through any leaves that remained on the trees, just bright enough to send a false promise of heat to those who saw them. The illusion was broken by wails as the arctic wind rattled skeletal branches and crowded against any unfortunate enough to be caught outside at this time of year. Fingers of it fumbled uselessly at his cloak, unable to penetrate the heavy fabric. All in all, this was a beautiful, if brisk, autumn day.

 

            Hannibal was completely and utterly bored.

 

            It had already been thirty five minutes and still he had seen neither hide nor hair of the elusive woodsman. He was beginning to think that his mother might have been wrong or that he had already moved back into the village when he heard something. His body went completely still, the only movement his ears turning to and fro as they sought it out. Again he heard the sound, a dull thunk. This time he was able to discern that it had come from somewhere off to his right.

 

            Hannibal glided off the path on silent feet, a shadow moving through the trees. Every few seconds the sound repeated, slowly growing louder and louder as he neared what seemed to be a small clearing. Finally stopping at its edge, he caught sight of his prey.

 

            The blade of an axe winked in the wane light before slamming down into a log and cleaving it in two, both halves falling to the side of the stump they had rested on. A man stood in the center of the circle of trees, body shining with the sweat of exertion. Hannibal unconsciously held his breath as he turned to the side. Sunlight cast his profile into relief, emphasizing a handsome face. Waves of dark curls glowed from within and swept down to rest over long lashes and blue eyes. Masculine stubble softened the lines of a strong jaw. The woodsman was shirtless, clothed only in grey trousers and black boots, and reached to his belt for a canteen. Hannibal watched with hungry eyes as he uncapped it and brought it to his lips, Adam's apple working in his throat as he swallowed.

 

            He quietly circled him with looks of open admiration while the woodsman bent down and placed another log on the stump. Toned muscles pulled taut beneath his skin as the blade came down again. Hannibal was content to keep his distance for several minutes, surprising himself with the rise of a different kind of hunger, one he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

 

            When the woodsman reached a pause, and therefore set down the axe, he decided it was time to introduce himself. He came back around to stand behind him, sliding his hood on to cover his ears. Stepping out of the shadows, he made sure to loudly break a twig.

 

            Immediately the man's head snapped up, startled eyes falling upon his cloak. He took a step back to stand near his axe, hands clenching once he noticed the shining wolf's head. Hannibal found his lack of trust charming, watching him retreat as he advanced. It suggested a greater intelligence than most silly humans possessed. 

 

            Still, it wouldn't do to scare him away. He stopped and clasped his arms behind his back, carefully lowering his voice and taking on a sweet, kindly tone. "Hello, good sir. Please excuse my interruption."

 

            Warily, the man cleared his throat and replied with a rich voice of his own. "It's no trouble, sir." His eyes tightened with suspicion. "May I ask what business you have in these woods?"

 

            Hannibal brought the wicker basket to the front, gesturing to it with his hand. "I am a doctor traveling to my sick grandmother's house. This basket holds goods for her in the hopes that her condition will improve."

 

            The tension eased slightly from the woodsman's shoulders at his words, and he gave a swift nod. "In that case, I wish you luck and safe passage." He turned back to his work.

 

            Hannibal would not let the conversation end so soon. An idea came to him. "Actually, sir, that is what I wish to ask you about." He saw the man reluctantly shift his attention back to him. "There are wolves in this forest, yet I have no axe or gun. My grandmother lives so deep in the woods. Would you be willing to escort me to her home?"

 

            His eyes flickered down as a pink tongue darted out to wet the woodsman's lips. "The wolves here aren't as dangerous as you've been told. As long as you leave them alone, they shouldn't bother you. I haven't seen a single one yet."

 

            Hannibal held back a smirk. Not as dangerous, hmm? Well, the woodsman hadn't seen one 'til now, so he could be excused for his ignorance. He wondered if by the end of the day he would change his tune. "I believe you. However, I worry that the scent of this food will draw them to me. They are more likely to attack me if I am alone; it would be a great comfort for you to walk by my side." He gave him a shaky smile.

 

            The man's grimace made it seem that he would say no, but as his eyes darted from the basket in his hands to the logs on the ground Hannibal could sense that he'd won. Eventually he pushed a hand into his hair with a sigh. "Alright. Uh. I'll be right back, wait here."

 

            As he shifted forward, Hannibal called out to him. "Oh, I've been terribly rude. My name is Hannibal Lecter. And yours?"

 

            He paused at the edge of the clearing, turning slightly to look at his cloak. "...William Graham. But I go by Will." Hannibal's eyes lit up. _Will_.

 

            Will slipped between the trees to the left, Hannibal listening to his steps until he couldn't hear them anymore. Now that he was alone, he allowed himself to scent the air, pulling it into his lungs. The clearing smelled of sweat first and foremost, undertones of the forest itself following soon after. Sap, still dripping from the axe and fallen logs, leant a sweetness to the air. But he was focused more on the scent of the man, faint traces of heat lingering behind him. It was an earthy, clean smell, somehow containing a subtle floral note. He took his time committing it to memory. Beyond that, he could smell dog and some kind of repugnant soap. Those scents had him wrinkling his nose. 

 

            Hannibal heard Will's return and watched as he reappeared in the spot where he had vanished, fully clothed this time disappointingly enough. The trousers had been joined by a woolen button down and thick black jacket. He entered the circle and pulled his axe from where he'd wedged it in a tree. Then he faced him, eyes gazing somewhere to the side of his head. "After you."

 

            Hannibal turned around and led him toward the path, ears tracking Will's steps as he followed behind him. He didn't bother to hold back his devious smile. Not as dangerous at all.


	4. To Grandmother's House We Go

***

 

            The trip proved to be much more pleasant this time around. The two walked in a comfortable silence, awkwardness from Will's end poking in at the edges. For a while the only sound was the crunch of leaves and the occasional bird call overhead. Hannibal eyed his new companion from the side, watching him wrinkle his brow in concentration as he carefully placed his feet along the path. It was lovely.

 

            Though the quiet was nice, he thought it would be nicer to learn more about his prey. He faced him fully, giving him an open, engaging smile. "So, Will. What has _you_ so deep in these woods?"

 

            He shrugged, eyes raised to the branches of the trees as they swayed in a sudden gust of wind. "Moved here about a month ago." The blunt answer did nothing to satisfy his curiosity.

 

            "Wouldn't it have been better to live closer to the village?" He tilted his head to the side.

 

            Again, Will shrugged, but his shoulders drew in more defensively. "I like it better out here. It's more open. Less... noise." He had been about to say something else, but stopped himself. Hannibal got the feeling that 'noise' didn't mean what he was being led to believe. "Besides, there's enough space for my dogs."

 

            "Why move now, though?" He softened his voice, hoping to dull his questions enough for Will to drop his guard. It didn't seem to work as the agitated man scratched at his chin.

 

            "Didn't feel welcome there anymore." A sharp grin warned him to drop the subject. It was promptly ignored.

 

            "Not welcomed?"

 

            "Yes, not welcomed."

 

            "But-"

 

            A harsh bark of laughter cut him off. Will stopped walking and rubbed at his eyes. He didn't see Hannibal's thin with displeasure. "I wasn't _welcomed_ because the villagers didn't like having me there. I look into people and I see too much, more than they want me to see. They thought I was _dangerous._ " He looked up at him through the gaps in his fingers. For the first time Will met his curious gaze with one of his own. 

 

            His blue eyes dripped with shadows, cold enough to freeze him in place. There was a darkness in them that sent shivers down Hannibal's spine, and not because of the threat it posed. It was a darkness that matched the wolf's own. He felt his pupils dilate in response, his true nature peeking out from behind the curtain as it urged him to snatch the woodsman up and never let him go. For a split second, his plans to do just that were written across his face.

 

            Luckily enough, Will had already looked away. "You'd be safer with the wolves." With that bitter statement he was walking again.

 

            Hannibal's longer legs allowed him to easily match his stride, instincts warring with reason in his head. Part of him wanted to slam Will into the nearest flat surface and have his way. A similar part of him argued that he should carry him off to his home first, to properly claim and protect what was his, his, his. Both parts were silenced by the side closest to a human, the side that demanded propriety and reminded him of his original goal. Patience. He would have his feast either way.

 

            When Hannibal finally spoke, it was of none of these things and at the same time all of them. "I would much rather walk with you, if it's all the same."

 

            Will didn't say anything, but when he glanced over he found him wearing a tiny smile and a redness on his cheeks that may or may not have come from the cold.

 

            The rest of their walk passed in resumed silence, this time lacking tension on both ends. Soon, almost too soon for Hannibal's liking, his grandmother's house rose in the distance. Will came with him onto the porch, then stalled, shuffling from foot to foot in what appeared to be uncertainty. Hannibal allowed him to stew in it while he approached the door, opening it and stepping in. He threw a glance back over his shoulder, brows raised. "Would you like to wait inside?"

 

            Will's shuffling stopped as he stepped toward the door, face broadcasting his relief. "Yes, if it's alright with your grandmother."

 

            Hannibal moved to the side, forcing Will to brush past him when he walked in. He discreetly took in his scent as he did, shutting the door behind him. "I am sure she won't mind." He removed his cloak and hung it, reaching out to slip Will's jacket from his shoulders, startling him, and do the same. "If you will wait for me here, I'll see to her upstairs. Feel free to sit down." He left him to his own devices, sure that he wasn't the type to cause trouble, and went to find his grandmother.

 

            When he did find her, he couldn't help but think that she didn't look ill at all. Lounging in bed, silver mane spilling over her shoulders, her bright eyes widened with glee when she saw him come in. "Hannibal! I thought that might've been you I smelled. What brings you to this part of the woods?" Her gaze shifted to the basket in his hands. "Ah. I suppose that answers that question. Did your mother really send you all this way over a little cold?"

 

            Hannibal sat at the foot of the bed and passed the basket to her, enjoying the way she immediately fell upon it like the wolf that she was. "Apparently so. She told me that you were ill."

 

            His grandmother scoffed as she held the bottle of wine up to the light. "Always such a worrier. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine. It was nice of you to drop by though, especially when you've brought an unexpected guest." Her words were a near purr, hunger in every syllable. "Who is the young man downstairs?"

 

            "That would be Will. He is the woodsman who moved into our forest. I came upon him this morning on my way here." He lowered his pitch to match her own.

 

            Her smile turned more playful than predatory, voice taking on a slight lilt. "Oh? And would you be willing to share?"

 

            His hooded eyes spoke of another kind of hunger as he flashed his teeth. "Oh, _no_ , grandmother. I'm afraid I'll be eating _this_ feast on my own." He rose from the bed and walked to the door, her laughter rising behind him.

 

            "Ah, what a shame. Maybe next time, then." She continued knowingly as he stepped through the door. "Oh, and Hannibal. It's not polite to play with your food."

 

            He winked at her with a smirk. "Of course, grandmother. I shall keep that in mind. Have a wonderful day." She stuck out her tongue like a wolf of a much younger age and shooed him away.

 

            Downstairs, he found Will standing more or less where he'd left him. He was scanning a shelf of books on the wall nearest to him, completely oblivious as Hannibal approached. "Will." He jumped, whirling around to face him. "We can leave now."

 

            He nodded, and they both put on their layers against the cold. Hannibal held the door for Will, thinking of things that would be sure to scare him away if he knew of them. He admired his retreating back with ravenous eyes, delicately shutting the door. It was time to go home.


	5. All the Better

***

 

            They had just begun to walk along the path when Will surprised Hannibal with a question.

 

            "Is your grandmother okay?"

 

            Hannibal thought back to their exchange. "Yes, I believe she will be fine." He watched his breath escape his lips in a white cloud, drifting up to the sky. The sun was going down, and the temperature was falling with it. Ordinarily this would have been an inconvenience at best, but now he saw it for what it was. An opportunity. He focused on Will's profile. "Will."

 

            The man had his eyes on the branches again. "Hmm?"

 

            "It will be getting dark as well as freezing very soon, and if your house is near the clearing it is rather far away."

 

            Will stiffened slightly, his body angling toward him just enough to tell him that he had his full attention even though he didn't look his way. "Yeah..."

 

            "You have helped me quite a lot today, and my house is much closer than your own. I would like to repay you for your kindness by offering you dinner." He beamed at him reassuringly when he nervously glanced over.

 

            "A-are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you..."

 

            Hannibal studied him in the dim light. His hair was tousled from its time in the wind, curling wildly around his face. Blue eyes, shining as they teared up in the dry air, stood out against rosy cheeks. His lithe frame was silhouetted against the darkening blue of the sky. Delicious.

 

            "It would be no trouble at all."

 

            He hesitated, and then returned Hannibal's smile with one of his own. "Then I accept your offer."

 

            At that exact moment Hannibal led him down a near invisible branch of the path, one leading directly to his home. It was easy to miss, and one could get hopelessly lost if they didn't know where it was and tried to find it on their own. "Excellent." Within minutes the main path was out of sight. Will would not be finding his way back without help, help that Hannibal had no intention of providing. The woodsman didn't know it, but he had passed the point of no return.

 

            Just as the sun's final rays slipped beneath the horizon, they arrived at their destination. Hannibal's house was not like that of his mother and grandmother's, a massive, imposing thing of mortar and stone. It must not have resembled Will's either, for he couldn't help but stare up at it in awe. His animalistic side preened under the wordless expression of wonder, making him feel satisfied that his intended knew he could provide. It was this side that drove him to usher Will into the house and begin making them dinner. The ignorant woodsman would be trapped in the wolf's den, alone.

 

            With a hand on his lower back, he guided him inside and directed him to a large living room. Many plush couches and chairs filled the space, a fire crackling merrily in the hearth and casting long, dancing shadows over wine colored walls and towering bookshelves. Over in the corner was a mahogany coat rack, and he once again hung Will's jacket for him. "If you will excuse me for a moment, I will prepare our meal. Please, make yourself comfortable." Remembering Will's examination of his grandmother's bookshelf, he swept a hand toward his own invitingly. "If you wish, you are more than welcome to read while you wait." He was pleased to see him drift over the shelves with quiet thanks. Once he was sure Will had settled, he turned away.

 

            Before entering the kitchen, he went to his bedroom. His cloak was neatly placed on a hanger before he removed the top layers of his suit, ending up in a cream colored dress shirt and his slacks. With that done, Hannibal began to mentally pick out his ingredients as he headed back downstairs. The first thing he got out was the meat. As a wolf, and therefore a carnivore, he had a large variety to choose from. He examined the cuts critically, finally removing two from his freezer with a cruel gleam in his eye. It seemed that Will was not overly fond of human company. Perhaps he would prefer them on his plate.

 

            Typically, having a guest over meant a handcrafted culinary masterpiece would be served. However, these things took far too much effort to be created in such a short amount of time. He settled for a more simplistic approach. The cuts of meat were segmented into bite sized pieces and entered a pot along with several sliced vegetables. Creams, spices, and just a dash of blood were brought to a boil and formed the broth. Soon a stew was bubbling on his stove, flooding the house with its heavenly aroma. He set two bowls out in the dining room, placing golden spoons by their side. After slipping back up to his room and donning his cloak, taking his time to properly adjust the hood, he checked in on his guest.

 

            Will was curled into one of the armchairs nearest to the fire, absorbed in a book he clutched in his hands. It looked all too natural, like he was meant to be there. Hannibal appreciated the way the light played over the planes of his face before clearing his throat. "If you would follow me to the dining room, dinner is ready."

 

            Unlike the times before, he wasn't surprised by the interruption, blinking lazily as he pulled himself from the pages instead. He obediently stood, closing the book tucking it back onto the shelf. His jacket was left where it hung.

 

            Hannibal seated him to his right and brought the stew in from the kitchen, ladling it into both of their bowls before he left to place the pot in his sink. Steam was still rising enticingly when he returned. He was pleased to find that Will had waited for him. He glanced to him expectantly, only beginning to eat when Hannibal inclined his head in silent encouragement.

 

            Maroon eyes watched him blow on a spoonful with anticipation. He had to stop himself from leaning forward as it passed his lips. Will sighed with pleasure, his tail twitching in response. "I trust it tastes alright?"

 

            For the first time, Will gave him a genuine smile. The open happiness on his face was breathtaking. "It's delicious. Thank you for making this and inviting me." Hannibal wondered if he'd still thank him were he to tell him what he was eating.

 

            Their meal passed in a blissful silence broken only by the sipping of broth or clinking of silverware. It didn't take long for them to finish, Will letting out another gentle sigh and leaning back in his chair. Both were full and content, more than happy to enjoy the moment of rest that came after a good meal. 

 

            Or at least they were until Will happened to look out the window. Immediately he jumped from his seat with alarm. "I'm sorry, I think I have to go. I didn't mean to stay so long." He sheepishly scratched at the back of his head. "I guess I lost track of time. Thanks again for your food and hospitality." With that he headed to the door.

 

            Hannibal stood as well, quickly coming around to follow him as he strayed into the living room to retrieve his jacket. "Are you sure? It is terribly dark outside, and the path through these woods is not easy to find. I have several guest bedrooms. You could always stay the night."

 

            Will reemerged, still shrugging into one of the sleeves, and crossed to the door. "While the offer is tempting, I really should go. I've already imposed on you enough and my dogs are waiting for me at home. If I wait too much longer I'll get lost for sure." He reached for the knob.

 

            Hannibal's hands slammed into the wood, caging him in with his arms. He leaned in, warm breath fluttering Will's curls and making him shiver. "I'm afraid I must insist. It simply wouldn't be safe for you to go alone."

 

            He allowed Will to drop his hand and turn to face him, blue eyes focused on the spot where his hands pressed into the door and traveling up to his shoulders. "Sir, what big arms you have..."

 

            "All the better to hold you with, my dear." He practically purred the words.

 

            Will looked down to the floor with flushed cheeks as he used a knee to nudge his thighs apart. "Sir, what big legs you have."

 

            "All the better to chase you with, my dear." Hannibal threw his hood back, ears springing free.

 

            Will's eyes flashed in understanding, but oddly enough there was no fear. "Sir, what big ears you have." His voice had dropped in pitch.

 

            "All the better to hear you with, my dear." He laid a hand upon his cheek, lightly stroking the side of his face with his thumb. Will boldly met his eyes the second time that day. This time his eyes were darkened by arousal, blue irises drowning in black. Hannibal knew his would be the same.

 

            "Sir, what big eyes you have." 

 

            It had become a game between them, he realized. He continued to play along. "All the better to see you with, my dear." Hannibal licked his lips, Will tracking the movement with a hunger mirroring his own.

 

            Will lowered his voice to a murmur, an indolent grin spreading across his face as he raised his arms to rest on Hannibal's shoulders. "Sir, what big _teeth_ you have."

 

            "All the better..." Now he was nearly whispering, closing in on his prey. "...To _eat you_ with, my dear." He nipped at his lips before finally pulling him in and capturing them with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the dialogue from the original a bit to fit the situation. The cannibalism was actually mentioned in [earlier versions](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Red_Riding_Hood) of Little Red Riding Hood. In them, the wolf feeds her the meat and blood of her grandmother.


	6. Animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who is asexual, let me just tell you that I have no idea what I'm doing. This is my first time writing a sex scene, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. My aim is to improve.

***

 

            Hannibal ground his hips against Will, trapping both of their growing erections between them. The friction was wonderful, both letting out a small moan. He continued to rut against him as he trailed his kisses across his jaw and down onto his neck, mouthing at the fevered skin. 

 

            His lips buzzed against him as he spoke. "I _am_ a wolf you know. You don't seem to be very surprised."

 

            Will tilted his head back to give him better access, leaning his head on the door. "That's because I'm not. I knew what you were the whole time." His Adam's apple beckoned temptingly, and Hannibal gently nibbled at it with the sharp points of his teeth. One must have pressed harder than he thought, because a hot splash of blood coated his lips. Will didn't seem to mind, pressing against him with a gasp. "I... mm... see too much, remember?" He could feel the vibrations as he sucked at the wound before soothing it with an agile tongue.

 

            "Hmm, I suppose." He raked his long nails over Will's chest, opening his jacket to tease his nipples with the pads of his fingers. The hardened buds were circled and flicked through the fabric of his shirt. He was rewarded with soft panting as Will arched his spine, pushing up into his hand.

 

            It was a pleasant surprise to feel clever fingers reach down and stroke him through his slacks. He leaned into Will as waves of pleasure and heat rolled through him, claws digging into the wood where he braced himself. Hot breaths warmed sensitive skin while he focused on adding to the growing collection of red marks on his throat. He was almost painfully hard now, and from what he could feel when he brushed against Will, so was he.

 

            Will stopped his ministrations long enough the cup his face and raise it for a kiss, tongue flicking out to taste his lips. Hannibal responded immediately, deepening the kiss and plunging into the heat of his open mouth. His hand came up to fist in his curls, fingers tangling themselves and tugging down to get a better angle. They swirled together, each mapping out the other with anything they could. Eventually they broke apart long enough to catch their breath. Will's arms still curled around his neck, tightening as he made a desperate plea. "Bed."

 

            Hannibal growled, hitching one of his legs up to his hip. Will quickly caught on, raising the other and crossing his ankles as Hannibal cupped his ass and picked him up. He carried him up the stairs and into his room, dropping him onto the furs covering his bed before leaning back.

 

            Will was a beautiful mess, cheeks flushed and full lips swollen and bruised, glowing a bright red. His hair fanned out around him, framing an angelic face twisted in arousal. Will's shirt hung off one of his shoulders, baring an enticing amount of pale skin. Hannibal wasted no time removing his clothes, yet took them off in just the right way to put on a show. Will watched him as he did, reaching down to touch himself as his body was slowly revealed.

 

            He caught his wrist and dragged the hand away, kissing his palm before dropping it to work at Will's clothes. This task he did torturously slow, fingers trailing down his thighs before unlacing the boots. They were thrown behind him to be dealt with tomorrow. Next he tugged his trousers down, Will helpfully lifting his hips. Left in nothing but a loose fitting shirt that ended at the top of his milky thighs, he was too much to resist. Hannibal covered his body with his own, finally earning the skin to skin contact he craved. Their cocks bumped together, heat building low in his gut.

 

            Both were taken into his palm and pumped while their mouths were sealed in another heated kiss, any sounds of pleasure caught between the two of them. Will's hand came down to join his own, skirting over the heads and causing an involuntary thrust of Hannibal's hips. He left Will to his own devices and propped himself on one arm, pressing two fingers to his lips. "Suck."

 

            Their eyes locked as Will parted his lips for him, the digits disappearing between them and being played with by his tongue. He hollowed out his cheeks in time to the movement of his hand. Hannibal observed with hooded eyes, wondering what else he could do with his mouth. When he felt it was enough, he withdrew his fingers and slipped out of Will's grasp.

 

            He moved to settle between his legs, gently pushing his thighs apart. After parting his cheeks, Will was bared to him completely. He raised an arm to cover the lower half of his face as Hannibal circled his hole, rubbing his fingers over the sensitive flesh. His other hand came up to move the arm away. He wanted to see his face, to watch his expression change.

 

            Gradually, one of his fingers pushed in past the tight ring of muscle, feeling it clench at the intrusion. He leaned down to smooth Will's furrowed brow with kisses, pumping in and out while stroking his cock. Eventually his body relaxed, and the first finger was joined by a second. They alternated between scissoring him open and curving on the way out. Will winced at the stretch, shifting in an attempt to get more comfortable. But soon he was arching off the bed with a gasp, Hannibal finally brushing his prostate. Once he'd found the area he didn't hesitate to use it, hitting it nearly every time he went in. Quiet moans filled the room.

 

            Will was already much looser than before, but it still wasn't enough. A third finger was added, this one going in dry. It had to burn, but Will was successfully distracted by Hannibal tugging on his nipple with his teeth and thumbing his slit. His cries grew louder, and he carded his fingers through Hannibal's silky hair, holding him to his chest rather than pushing him away. He pulled his hand back, Will having been properly readied for him. Hannibal heard a whimper at the loss of contact, and that was all he could take.

 

            He grabbed him by waist and flipped him onto his stomach, raising his ass into the air. Will only had time to let out a "Wha-" before he sank into his tight heat. Both groaned at the sensation, Hannibal's fingers gripping at his hips hard enough to bruise. He gave Will time to adjust before gently rocking forward, the movement sending sparks of ecstasy down his spine. The hitch in Will's breath as he stretched his arms out in front of him and wove his fingers into the furs was intoxicating. Inch by inch, he watched himself disappear into the pliant body beneath him.

 

            At first he set a slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm his bedmate. But Will surprised him by growling and snarling at him impatiently. "Faster. _Harder_." Well, who was he to deny him? The next time he pulled out, he snapped his hips forward and buried himself to the base, throwing his head back. Now he brought an arm down to cage Will in and hold him in place, every thrust forcing the bed into the wall. 

 

            Will screamed at the new, brutal pace, writhing beneath him in passionate throes of arousal. Without thinking about it Hannibal bit down on his nape, his instincts telling him that his mate was trying to escape. He groaned as the metallic tang of blood burst across his taste buds, a tight heat coiling in his gut. The pleasure-pain drove Will wild. He rose to meet every thrust, Hannibal draped over the graceful curve of his spine with his teeth still embedded in his flesh. 

 

            Hannibal could feel his knot begin to grow, catching it on the rim every time he popped in or out. He was close, but didn't want to finish first. Taking Will's cock into his hand, he stroked in time with each snap of his hips, fingers dipping lower to drift over his perineum and play with his balls. Breathy gasps and the obscene slap of skin on skin filled the room. Will's entire body went rigid as he came on the furs, voice breaking on a high moan. Hannibal followed soon after, the tightening of Will's body around his cock pushing him over the edge with a roar. Stars burst in his vision as he filled him with his white-hot seed in short spurts, knot swelling to lock him in place.

 

            They collapsed together, panting in the wake of their orgasms. Hannibal rolled them onto their sides, careful not to tug at the place where they were joined as he spooned Will from behind. Neither one spoke, lying there with their fingers threaded together. 

 

            They must have drifted off, because it felt like hours had passed when Hannibal woke. He slipped his limp cock out of Will and sat up in bed, quietly hissing as the cold air touched his skin. Beside him Will slept on obliviously, features relaxed and at ease. Hannibal's stomach growled. It seemed that in satisfying one hunger, the other had returned. He eyed the defenseless human in his bed. Even after mating him, he still looked appetizing. With a moment's consideration, he slowly leaned in and opened his jaws. After all, who could resist such a tempting meal?


	7. Happily Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty short, so I decided to go ahead and post it.

***

 

            The next morning found Hannibal alone, sitting on a dove gray couch while he stirred the fire with an iron poker. It was still early, just barely passing dawn, and the room had yet to lose its chill. A soft down blanket covered his bare skin.

 

            Hannibal stared into the fireplace, lost in thought. He found himself feeling that his house was rather empty now. Perhaps he regretted his treatment of the woodsman after all.

 

            "Hannibal."

 

            He turned his gaze from the flames to the doorway, failing to hide a smile at what he saw. Will leaned against the frame, a hand raised to rub the sleep from his eyes. His bed-head was adorable, curls sticking up in odd places and falling across his brow. And he was naked beneath Hannibal's cloak.

 

            "Will." The warmth in his voice surprised him, not that he allowed it to show. "You must be cold. Come sit by the fire with me." As he quietly brushed by him and took a seat at his side, he admired every bruise and love bite he could see.

 

            Last night, Will had woken up just enough to roll over in his sleep and look up at him from beneath his lashes with innocent blue eyes, mumbling sleepily. "-nnibal?" He hadn't been able to resist, changing his mind yet again. They proceeded to have a more intense, rougher round two. Both of them bore scratches, bite marks and hickeys.

 

            Thinking back, it might've been too much. That didn't kill the satisfaction he felt at seeing Will wince as he sat down. He continued to prod at the logs in the hearth, voice casual while he looked to the embers with a smirk. "Are you feeling alright? Your voice sounds a little hoarse." Hannibal was only half joking; he hadn't expected him to wake until a much later hour of the day.

 

            Will blushed furiously and stared down at his feet, but stubbornly sassed him back. "And whose fault is _that_?"

 

            Hannibal hummed his agreement, putting the poker back in its rightful place. Wrapping his arms around his waist, he pulled Will closer and tucked him against his chest, resting his chin on his head and wrapping them both in his blanket. "Whose fault indeed?"

 

            At Will's laughter he grinned wolfishly. He was incredibly glad he hadn't eaten him. Yes, this morsel was far too good to be gulped down in one or two bites. Hannibal would be sure to savor his woodsman over time. He _was_ a gentleman after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be a sequel, I think. To be continued?

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on [Perrault's Version](http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/perrault02.html) of Little Red Riding Hood and was partially inspired by the Mikuo version of [Akazukin no Ookami (Red Riding Hood's Wolf)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLE17Rg6A58&list=PLB8ShaL28UGQyEiSTkANiGkvj5Cl-eA5j&index=86). [My tumblr](http://visceralviscaria.tumblr.com).


End file.
